


the ravens are crying you home

by heartseekers



Category: A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fantasy elements, Gen, byeongkwan is a sacred stag, feeldog is mentioned as well wink wink, that yuchan needs to hunt down, tiniest mention of donghun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartseekers/pseuds/heartseekers
Summary: The horse's peaceful gait makes Byeongkwan feel sick once they put the veil on him. He tugs at the rope tied around his wrists, biting his lip at the rough drag of hemp over raw skin and tries to drown out the voices filtering through the cloth.
Kudos: 13





	the ravens are crying you home

**Author's Note:**

> hello and thank you for giving this fic a try! it was a commission for rem whom i thank very much and i hope it's enjoyable for everyone who decides to check this out!

The ground is uneven under his blistered feet, loosely nocked arrow dragging across the dirt once every few steps. Yuchan licks his cracked lips and presses forward, tells himself he’ll go back once he’s reached the stream hidden behind the trees and refilled his waterskin. Instead, he trips on a gnarled root and falls to his knees with a muted grunt. The arrow in his hand snaps, thin wood splintering where Yuchan lands on it and he feels around under his body, trying to get the broken shaft away from his side. He misses and his hand grasps at the damp earth, sinking into it unevenly. 

The wind stops blowing.

Yuchan lays there for a moment, not moving, and then opens his eyes to look in front of him. Tiny impressions pockmark the dirt in the shape of tracks, two curved prongs he can fit his fingers into perfectly. Exhaustion clears away in a second, replaced by a sinking feeling weighing him down. He looks straight ahead, following the curved path cutting through the forest with his eyes and picks his bow back up. Behind him, his arrow sticks out of the ground like a piece of broken bone. 

He hurries towards the stream, heart beating loudly in his ears the closer he gets, ignoring the way his foot nearly catches on the rocks jutting out of the ground, legs shaking after he regains his balance. 

Once he reaches the water, Yuchan allows himself some time to breathe. His eyes roam around, heart squeezing into his throat for a few agonizing moments. Nothing seems to jump at him; just reed-grass rustling in the breeze, a lone bird crying out. He exhales slowly and grabs his waterskin, shuffling towards the curved bank of the stream. 

For a second, the only thing he can hear is the stuttery rush of air into his lungs. His vision narrows into a single point, focused on the pair of antlers bobbing close to the surface of the water, almost swaying with the wind. Yuchan takes a tentative step forward and he can feel his legs giving out under him when he peeks at the figure, hair a touch fairer than the pale grasses surrounding him. 

It’s sheer luck that the stag doesn’t hear him get closer. The sound of flowing water covers his ragged breathing and masks his steps, hands fumbling as Yuchan tugs at the rope coiled around his quiver. His fingers shake as he untangles the strands, scared and lightheaded when he gets to stand right above the figure; he knows he’ll only get one shot at this.

The stag must hear him or see his reflection in the distorted surface of the water. His head snaps back and his antlers scratch Yuchan’s cheek before he can move out of the way, dropping the rope to the ground and wrapping his arms around his neck instead. Time slows down around them and there’s no sound save for Yuchan’s harsh breathing and the quiet huffs of the man in his arms as he struggles in Yuchan’s hold, nails catching in the leather of his arm braces where he’s trying to dig them in.

Cloven feet kick at the ground in an attempt to get away, desperate and frantic as he pushes Yuchan backwards but the arms around his throat never go lax. Moments pass where the two of them grapple on the ground and slowly, the stag’s slender body begins to grow slack. He stops fighting, eventually, and the clearing is quiet again, not even birdsong penetrating the vertiginous roar in Yuchan’s ears. He spends a few seconds looking at the body in his arms, pretty features tense even as he’s passed out, a few streaks of dirt decorating his cheeks and the underside of his eyes a bruised purple that mirrors Yuchan’s own. 

Yuchan barely remembers where he threw the rope. Still delirious from their scuffle, he trembles as he wraps it around the stag’s ankles, jumping when his fingers brush against his dewclaws. He loops it around his wrists as well, tying a knot that’s too loose for his liking but his hands end up shaking uncontrollably when he tries tightening it. There’s a split second where he lets his eyes rest on the stag’s throat, staring as the red skin slowly turns purple in places. Yuchan feels sick and unmoored. He checks to see if the stag is still breathing and then effectively passes out at the first faint rush of air over his fingers.

When he comes to, the weight on top of him is moving, tiny hands desperate where they paw at the straps holding Yuchan’s dagger to his thigh. He pushes the stag off of him and scrambles to get up, wraps his fist around the curled part of the main beam of his antlers to pull and only falters when the stag makes a wounded noise. Yuchan thinks that’s it, but then the stag kicks one of his legs out, swiping it in front of him and he bites his lip as he knees him in the chest, hard. Yuchan drags the barely-conscious figure after him, dodging half-hearted strikes from the stag until they reach his horse.

The stag fights him every step of the way. Getting him up in the saddle leaves Yuchan with sore arms, body weak and trembling once he's sure he's tied up securely, the anger and frustration bubbling in his chest slowly making way for an almost giddy feeling. The road behind them is long and winded Yuchan’s feet ache in sympathy at the thought of walking alongside his horse for the rest of their journey, but being the one to bring back the fabled stag gives him a heady type of rush.

-

Light cuts through the darkness in flickering patches, casting warm shadows over grim features. Nobody says a word when they see the gate marking the entrance to the town but they collectively breathe out a sigh of relief, tension evaporating in seconds. They got caught in a storm on the way back and lost the rest of their supplies right afterwards; some said it was the forest taking vengeance on them for capturing the stag, while others scoffed and dismissed it as an old folks’ tale. The stag—Byeongkwan, as he begrudgingly spat out—almost got away twice and it just served to make the restraints around his wrists tighter when they caught him again, rough hemp digging into his skin until it chafed. 

The gate looks deserted when they approach it. Only the fires on top are lit, flames sputtering and spewing dying ambers into the sky; the outposts under them are empty. No-one anticipates their return. 

Movement from the other side of the heavy structure startles them and one of the horses in the front huffs uneasily. The sound of metal on metal is high and screechy compared to the silence they were greeted by, and the plate covering the viewing grate is pushed aside to reveal a small face that peers at them from behind the gate. Sehyoon’s torchlight hardly illuminates the figure looking through the grate but it’s enough for them to notice the banner hanging under his saddle, even speckled with mud as it is.

Soon enough, the gates open and they’re rushed inside, marching towards the town square. People are already gathered up in spite of the late hour, looking at them with unsure eyes. Sehyoon leads the group and he enters the square first, trotting up to the clerics and captain of the guard. They shake hands and talk in low voices as the rest of their party files in, murmurs growing louder as Yuchan steps forward, extra harness in hand.

He leads a second horse into the circle they clear out for him. There’s a veiled figure sitting astride it, a misshapen lump that doesn’t look human at a first glance. The whispers behind them increase in volume until the square is buzzing, cresting when Yuchan tugs off the cape covering the form and the stag almost topples out of the saddle. Multiple hands reach out to steady him, and by the time he’s back to sitting upright again everybody’s gotten a good look at him. 

Byeongkwan’s got velvety antlers that almost shine in the torchlight, curved and strong and so, so beautiful. He’s as pale as a ghost even with orange light shining down on him and his lips are the deepest shade of crushed rose, two plump petals with the corners turned down. He squeezes his eyes shut, refuses to look at the crowd staring at him even when Yuchan goes to untie his hands, passing his fingers over the inflamed skin of his wrists gently. 

The stag startles when the horse moves forward, led by Yuchan. They stop a few paces down and Yuchan offers the reins to a stocky man clad in linen and red baize bordered in gold, face splitting into a manic smile. 

“I expect my payment in coin, minister Oh,” says Yuchan, cocksure in a way he’s never been until now; but his hand is trembling when he raises it to the man standing before them. Next to him Byeongkwan’s mouth twists in distaste, back rigid as he stares straight ahead, his dignity the only thing left as he’s being sold off to the clergyman. 

There will be a ceremony in a few days’ time; they’ll bathe Byeongkwan in moonwater and dress him up in red, dust the tips of his antlers gold and hang jewelry between the branches. They will have a public cleansing and then they’ll whisk him away inside the temple to live as a glorified good luck charm, locked up until they need him to bless their harvest and cattle.

Yuchan feels a pang in his chest when he realizes this; the crowd is already dispersing, happy even with the briefest sighting of the stag before he’s led away. His pockets are empty when he sticks his hands in them, no gold to soothe him or give him the illusion that what he did was for the better. As if on cue, his stomach cramps up, reminding Yuchan he hasn’t eaten properly in days. He places his hand low on his belly and looks for any familiar faces in the thinning crowd; Sehyoon spots him first and waits for Yuchan to approach him, and then Donghun joins them a second later. They need to return their horses to the stables and care for them before they can rest.

When they leave the square Yuchan resists looking back despite knowing that Byeongkwan is long gone; no haughty gaze to pin him in place, no disdainful curl to his lip when he finds something he deems repulsive. Regardless, the back of Yuchan’s neck pricks dully and he touches the skin there with tentative fingertips, startling when Sehyoon wraps an arm around his shoulders to lead him away. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!!
> 
> my commissions are open! as always, you can find me on 
> 
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